at that point … you know
On the occasions I find myself searching for ways and words to describe my work, to describe what I do, what I need next, attempts to articulate the why, the how, and all those things in between … I often find or fashion some new form of explanation.
Just now for example, my description conjured a strong spine aching to be fleshed out, and a coat that I wish to wear as I take the next step; the markings on the tags and labels tucked behind the nape of the neck and those details held tight between inner seams, vitally important (at least to me).
A thought to find a certain folder, to add a note to it (about something related/slightly un-related) had me find what follows.
It is the response to a question I was asked by another artist about how I would communicate something they experienced – how I would capture it with art / word / object, how I would express it poetically in the way they knew only me to do. They wished to do the same.
Firstly, I strongly believe in everyone tapping into and honing their own individual voice, and likely suggested that’s where the gold was. ‘The answer lies within‘, ‘Be yourself‘ and all that jazz.
But, I was left to ponder.
how do I do?
What a question! Argh! Hmmm …
I recall feeling quite unsure how to express this and deciding to just write and see what came out.
My response included this note that I am happy to have captured and kept on a printed piece of paper, tucked into a folder for future finding.
articulating the spine
Eight years ago, some cogs in my brain turned that how question in their teeth, and out my typing fingers came this:
…
p.s. how I will poet things is often unknown to me until through my own process I find out.
The trick. The one trick that never fails is to unpick: take off the covers and plunge deep through the layers of it, let that pulling thread lead you to where it pulls, put your pupil up to the hole it has opened in the fabric of feeling, see through that eye, into hurt or confusion, deeper into hope, and deeper still until you are looking out at the soft dark pinholed night, pin down in your knowing what feels in that moment to be the truth of the matter. And then, looking at the picked bones, the cloud of untouchable mist, attempt to transcribe that, attempt to weave muscle, shape a skin pattern, tailor it into form.
Words and images are never enough, they will always fail, poem them anyway. For if one droplet of that mist can be carried back through, you’ve darn well done it: touched upon a universality, a ‘ness’ that when shared, sparks something, possibly unexplainable, in another human. Something potentially uncaptureable in simple words. At that point, when you or they vibrate in the middle of your human stardust cells in response, it’s at that point you know it’s a poem.
indigo eli
April 2016
…
It is a delight to find the word ‘unpick’ here, a word which still deeply resonates … perhaps these days, even more-so.
how do you do?
I love reading how other artists articulate their work and practice. All that digging into deeper meaning. How do you do what you do? And why?
This blog post is likely to be followed by some tips and ideas for pinning this stuff down onto the page … think bios and artist statements … are you a keen bean?
image: the front of said folder, a collaged together self-portrait of an artist at work
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indigo eli 
Knowing my focus on fabric, you will understand how much I love your use of the language of dressmaking and mending. The pulling thread….the delving, immersion, the discovery, yes, yes, yes!